I tried therapy, payed much, little acheived then my therpist calls me annoying when I leave. The very reason I was having therapy was for feeling low in my self-worth and fears of being annoying based on past illusions. Ego stung for a while. Where is human decency? Privacy? Compassion? Love? Confidentiality? What the fuck? A therapist is supposed to be confidential and there to listen not gossip behind your back. Distasteful. Again, my faith in humans dim….
Writing can be many things for different minds. Writing in one form, therapy, can be a release, to pen down words and let them go. Writing can allow us to process and recalibrate our lives. Writing is a gift, a passion that will not die in me.